


Winter and Summer

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Flame of Durin [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dwarf Women, GFY, Non-Binary Gender, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori is a well-traveled thief, lifting the riches of those who have more than they need from the Ered Luin to the great trade hubs of southern Harad. He has seen places without winter or summer, mountains without snow, and places where water is as precious as gold. Monuments of fused stone that hum with fire, caravans of salt and of spice.</p>
<p>He has met all manner of Men and Dwarrow, spoken in languages rarely heard in the West, and he has stolen from them all. Lied to save his skin, or to give an accomplice time to escape, betrayed the truth to keep himself whole and running one more day. Traded favors and money and stolen goods for all manner of things.</p>
<p>The last time he dared travel the southern trade cities, he left behind a pair of sapphires and a favor unfilled, promising himself he wouldn’t spend winters so far south, no matter how fine the weather or rich the marks. Years later, he breaks his promise to himself, and dreads what might be asked of him when he once again sees those sapphires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter and Summer

**Author's Note:**

> In writing this, I had to figure out how to deal with dwarven gender, which is not binary in this AU, even in the functional sense. And while “both” isn’t the sort of term they’d actually use, it is the best word in English to get the sense of the gender across, as those who are can fill the roles of biologically female and biologically male persons in terms of reproduction.
> 
> Those who are born both don’t always identify as both, often to a greater degree than those who are born female or male don’t identify female or male. They often identify male because it’s easier, especially when dealing with the gender-binary world outside their halls.
> 
> As for pronouns - male pronouns for those who identify male, regardless of birth gender, female pronouns for those who identify female, regardless of birth gender, and ne/nem/nir for those who identify both or neither. Not all view-point characters default to the gender-neutral pronouns in their thoughts for those they do not know the gender identity of, even if they do so in their speech.

**Late Autumn 2892-Late Spring 2893**

**The Flooded City, on the Long River, Harad**

There are no winters in Harad. There aren't summers, either, at least not according to the locals. There is wet and there is dry, and for those seasons, they have words. But they have no word for summer or winter. Nori still hasn't decided if he prefers the familiar cycle of summer and winter at home, or the seasons of wet and dry in Harad. They both represent a cycle of fertile and barren ground, so there's nothing changed about having to store food against a season where little, if anything, grows.

What's more important, though, is there is little difference between the people in the north and the people of Harad, save here he's more likely to lose a hand if he's caught. Men are still as fond of wealth as they are of power, and dwarrows held in a mix of contempt and awe - their skills highly desired, but they themselves seen as greedy and treacherous. Nori will admit he is often greedy - not too greedy, he likes having his hands - but never treacherous. He won't sell out a companion for gold, nor just because he's being threatened. If it's clear he's about to lose limb or life, though, other thieves are fair game. Especially if they're Men. All thieves know this; it's part of their profession, and the real skill is holding out until the other has good odds to get away without destroying his chances of escaping.

At the moment, however, he doesn't think that's an option. It's not as if there _had_ been any others in on the night's activities, nor are any of his usual accomplices in this city anywhere in the vicinity to be ratted out in order to get the knife blade away from his throat, or the knee out of his crotch. It's a very bony knee, for a dwarrow's knee, and very well-placed to do damage even if he gets the knife sufficiently far from his throat to avoid being killed.

"Are you going to tell me what you're doing in my bedroom, or should I just call Ioran to throw you to the city guard?" The voice is a lovely baritone, too high for a male dwarrow, which is just his sort of luck this season. He's never seen a dwarrow-woman outside home, and knows when they are, they're well-guarded. No one takes their safety for granted. And if his captor isn't a dwarrow-woman, it doesn't much matter, because he doubts she will be alone in a Haradrim city, not here.

"I wasn't aware it was occupied." It has the advantage of being the truth, since every time he's used this home as a bolt-hole before, this room has been empty and bare save for the bed-frame and a lonely table with a mirror.

"Hmph."

The knife doesn't ease, but the knee shifts so it's a little less immediately dangerous. Nori isn't fool enough to think she can't still cause him no little amount of pain if he moves wrong, even if he accounts for the knife. He keeps his hands spread flat against the floor where she'd dropped him before he'd had a chance to do more than register the greater amount of furniture in the room. Really, he shouldn't have been taken off-guard, but he's willing to blame being rather closer to the city guard catching him than usual for his lack of attention for a critical moment.

"Who is chasing you, that you had to hide in my house?" That's the sort of question that Nori hates, though he'll gladly lie through his teeth if he can be sure the dwarrow-woman will believe him. Or he can tell a short truth, that isn't actually helpful.

"Haradrim." Which doesn't limit the pool of possibilities at all, not here. Well, perhaps a little, since it'll mean not merchants from outside Harad, but there are fewer here than in the cities at the mouths of the rivers.

"And why were they chasing you?" There's a note of amusement in her voice, as well as exasperation.

Because he had stolen a quite lovely silver-and-sapphire link belt from a prominent lady's chamber, and they were rather upset about the fact. At least the lady in question hadn't been present, he'd made sure of that before he'd gone in to steal the belt. After all, he didn't need them after his head, as well as his hands.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Nori shrugs, and grins a moment, though that makes her lodge her knee a little too close to his most sensitive parts for comfort again. "I was. And I have this unfortunate tendency for others to believe the worst of me."

Mostly with good reason, though there are things which are beyond even him. He's a thief, not evil.

His train of thought is derailed when someone comes pounding at the door of the building. Nori tenses, wondering just what his unexpected hostess will do, if that's the city guard coming door to door looking. Either the lady had been a little more important than he'd wagered, or the belt more valuable. Not that he understands why, as it's not terribly excellent work, and while it's an older style, he doubts it's as old as it's meant to be thought of.

Someone answers the door, but their voice is just a rumble of sound without any discernible words. The response is higher pitched, the tenor of a Haradrim man, probably one of the city guard. Another dwarrow rumble, and then steps come to the door of the room Nori is in, and he has to fight his own instincts to keep from struggling when there's a quiet knock on the door.

"What is it?" The dwarrow-woman does a credible imitation of someone woken out of near-sleep, cranky and somewhat slurred. More so than southern accents always sound to Nori.

"The city guard is looking for a thief who fled into this district, and they noticed your shutter open, Ragna. Is everything well?" There's genuine concern in the bass rumble, and Nori spreads his fingers a little wider, to make sure he doesn't do something foolish. There's still a knife at his throat, after all.

"I opened it for a little air. The room needed aired more before I arrived." Ragna sounds somewhat peeved now. "Even if there had been someone sneaking into my room, do you think they'd be any worry for the city guard?"

There's a chuckle, and Nori can hear the smile in the dwarrow's voice as he replies, "Only in that they could take the body with them, to satisfy their courts. Peace, Ragna, and dreams of the deep stone."

"And for you, if ever you sleep, Ioran." Ragna laughs a moment, without ever moving the knife at Nori's throat.

They're both silent and still as Ioran's footsteps retreat, and there's a momentary argument at the door, before the outer door is shut with a thud. Nori would almost relax, save he's not quite certain why he's just been given a reprieve, or what will happen next. The idea that he could have been dead is somewhat disconcerting.

"Now what?" he asks after another long moment, keeping his voice quiet enough it won't carry.

"Now you owe me a favor." Ragna shifts, moving knife and knee both away from Nori before she stands. She doesn't offer to help him to his feet, and Nori's glad for it, standing slowly and carefully. There might be some bruises later, and his pride is injured, but he wants to keep it that way.

"What sort of favor?" Nori is wary of open-ended favors, particularly in Harad, where they can be especially dangerous to life and limb. He has no intention of sacrificing his life later for some dwarrow-woman he only knows the name of because someone else mentioned it. He'd do so for Ori - might even for Dori, on a good day - and he would do so for Thorin or Dís, but no one else is so high in esteem.

Ragna is quiet for a moment, and Nori can feel her gaze on him, though there's little enough light to see by, none of it directly on him - or her, for that matter. "One which makes use of the talents you exercised in entering my room, and perhaps those for which you are being pursued by the Men of the city."

A promise, of sorts, not to try to use him simply to save her own skin at the cost of him, though that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't be doing something of the sort. It all depends on what she might ask him to steal.

"To be used when I have need of it."

The sort of favor that he hates, hanging over his head until he has a chance to repay it, and he particularly dislikes the idea of owing a stranger such a favor.

"I cannot promise I'll be around for you to collect." Nori fully intends to avoid this part of Harad for several years, at least until the fuss about his latest theft settles down - that it will also mean avoiding a chance for Ragna to call in the favor is merely a bonus.

Ragna lets out a bark of laughter, and Nori can hear the exasperation in her voice when she speaks. "You talk like a northerner, of course you can't make that promise. I will collect when I can, and have need."

Nori glances at the open window, wondering if it will be safe to leave yet, or if the guard will be watching to see if he emerges, regardless of what Ioran had relayed to them from Ragna. He's not entirely confident they won't be, so he waits, despite the itch to run fast and far.

There's a sigh, and the sound of Ragna moving across the floor away from her bed. A chest is opened, the hinges almost silent, and a moment later, the soft thump of cloth hitting the floor.

"Stay. They'll watch most of the night, since they don't trust even those who have proven they're worth such a thing." Footsteps again, and the creak of the bed-ropes to tell Nori Ragna has returned to the comfort of her own blankets. "Latch the window behind you, if you leave without waking me."

Something he fully intends to try, though Nori isn't quite certain if he'll manage. He waits a long moment before he goes to where he'd heard the chest, finding a pillow as well as a pair of blankets on the floor. Little enough on stone, but he wraps himself in the one after carrying them to the corner nearest the window. Best to have an escape route close, if he has to run.

* * *

**The Flooded City, on the Long River, Harad**

The dwarrow is gone when Ragna wakes, her window shuttered once more, and the blankets left neatly folded on the chest she'd pulled them from the night before. At least he'd been a polite guest, if an unexpected and not entirely welcome one. Snorting, Ragna shoves the covers back, and reaches for the robe she'd left on the chair next to her bed.

A frown crosses her face when she realizes it's heavier than it ought to be, and she reaches into the pockets curiously. She pulls out a pair of small sapphires, staring at them where they lay in the palm of her hand. "This doesn't cancel that favor, thief," she mutters to herself, going over to her chest, and tucking the sapphires into the small box that she keeps in the bottom with the jewelry she rarely wears. It might be interesting to explain where she acquired them to Ioran, or the others, if she brought them out.

Of course, Ioran is still watching her curiously when she emerges from her room, and draws her to one side before she can go down to the kitchen to eat breakfast. "You never open your window here, Ragna. What happened last night?"

She's quiet for a long moment, watching Ioran. "A northerner snuck in to hide from the city guard. He owes me a favor, to be collected at my discretion."

"Did you get a name from him?" Ioran is returning her gaze steadily, his expression impassive.

"No. Why should I, when any name he gives me is likely to be nothing that could be used to find him?" Not a lie, precisely, but certainly not his real name, if he would have given her a name at all.

Ioran sighs, and runs a hand through his still flame-red hair. Ragna sometimes wonders how he's not gone all to silver, with the stresses of guarding those who work in Harad. "He broke into Lady Adisa's chamber, and stole the belt she commissioned to match her husband-mother's."

If the Haradrim find out she'd lied about the thief's presence, she'll suffer the same fate he would, and she'd known that when she'd made the decision not to tell Ioran there had been someone in her room. If it had been worth the risk, she doesn't know yet.

"I will bear that in mind." Ragna waits a moment more before she tugs free of Ioran's grasp. "I have a building to oversee the construction of, and the workers don't like waiting."

Ioran nods, and lets her go, though his expression is still troubled as he watches her. Ragna knows he worries about all of them, and she appreciates the concern even when she doesn't think it's warranted. Save perhaps the risk to the others in the house, and she knows that no one here will think less of her for risking their lives for another dwarrow, even a thief - a dwarrow is a dwarrow first, and trouble after.

* * *

**Brandywine River, south of the Shire**

The melted silver from his latest theft fetches a decent price, and along with the caches he retrieves from around the city, Nori has enough to take him halfway across Harad without even fetching the rest of the stashes he's hidden between here and Pelargir. Some of them he'll clear out, regardless, until he no longer sees the black stone monuments that hum at the edges of his senses. The Haradrim think of them as monuments to their ancestors and their dark god, but Nori knows the builders must have been dwarrow - and dwarrow laughing at those who commissioned the monuments.

He braids his hair carefully, the style one borrowed from watching the southern dwarrows in these cities rather than his own distinctive three-peaked one. His clothing is as rich as Thorin's, if done in southern silks and styles. All in all, he looks more like a wealthy merchant than the thief he is, and it will give him more anonymity than the shabbier clothing of the unskilled laborers or journeymen who raise the city from the shipments of stone coming up the rivers from the furthest south.

It's the same guise he wore coming into the city, in fact, and the guards at the gate are the same as those when he arrived. They smile, and ask him if he's had a profitable trip, and he passes small purses of gold as he tells them it was profitable enough. He doesn't relax until he's two days away from the city, and even then, only in that he actually bothers to light a fire to cook dinner before he wedges himself in a deep fork between the roots of one of the massive trees of the southern forests.

Three months pass before he stops for more than a night or two; his rich clothes are sold in Umbar's only real city, outward wealth traded for coin hidden in pockets that already hold gems from horded caches. He'll make new ones, in the familiar haunts of the Ered Luin. Some of the coin to his brothers, the most anonymous of the gems to Dís and Thorin, though even those will never repay the debt he owes them.

A small grimace crosses his face at the thought of that debt, and the new one that is of similar kind, if not as great in scope. There's a reason he hates that sort of debt, though he can't really regret incurring either one of them. So long as he lives, he can find ways of repaying the favors of a life spared.

The Ered Luin are a welcome sight as he crosses the last river between him and the mountains - they're not home, even though he'd grown up there, even though Dori and Ori live there still, but they're as close as he expects he'll ever come. A small smile crosses his face, and he begins to look for one of the decent camp sites he's used when coming up from the south before.

The best one, though, is occupied, and Nori sighs irritably when he sees who's there. "Ostomacil." There's no point in pretending he'd planned to find another site, nor that Ostomacil hadn't seen him, since Nori knows the stubborn bastard will simply follow him and bother him if he camps elsewhere.

"Nori." Ostomacil watches him for a moment, before gesturing at the empty place next to his small fire. "I didn't expect to see you until summer."

Nori shrugs, and sheds his pack to sit upon. It's a bit uncomfortable, but he prefers not to have the Ranger go through it this time. There are some jewels he's not certain wouldn't be recognized even this far north. "Harad was a bit too dry this year."

Ostomacil snorts, giving Nori an amused, and annoyingly smug smile. At least he doesn't _say_ anything about Nori's running from things he can't fix with a bribe, a lie, or a judiciously doled out truth. It's annoying enough that the Ranger thinks he has Nori all figured out, without him make a point of it.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" Nori has his own supplies, but eating fresh is always preferable, and the Ranger is good at catching a decent rabbit for dinner. Enough, even, to make a stew which will feed two, if Nori can convince him to share.

A shrug is his response, and a raised eyebrow. "You have anything to add to whatever I might cook?"

"I might." Nori shrugs, not moving from his perch on his pack. "Bread, mostly."

"Bread will do." Ostomacil stands after adding a small branch to the fire. "Should be a rabbit in one of the traps. Roasted with bread, it should be enough for dinner."

A light dinner, but Nori hasn't had a good feast since Dís had wed Víli, and it's been over fourty years since then. He'll have to eat a bit more when he's in the Ered Luin, so he doesn't have to endure Dori's scolds about his being entirely too light as well as the lectures about his profession, but that's not here and now. No matter that he can all but hear his brother's irritated voice in the back of his mind, telling him he doesn't take enough care with himself.

"Enough," he agrees, watching Ostomacil until the Ranger is out of sight. Only then does Nori move, pulling some of the travel-bread he carries from his pack, and the shallow pan he uses to soak it until it's soft enough it won't break his teeth. Water from the skin of it, and Nori settles it near the fire to warm as well as soak before shifting the camp around so he has a place to put his back to one of the tall rocks that make it the best campsite.

His rearrangement gets a huff of laughter from the Ranger when Ostomacil comes back with a pair of rabbits, already gutted. Nori grins, and gestures to the pan with the bread, before leaning back against the rocks. "Cram, really, but edible enough."

"If you want to break a tooth." Ostomacil spits the rabbits on peeled sticks, angling them over the fire. There isn't really anything else to say, as they wait for the rabbits to roast.

* * *

**The Flooded City, on the Long River, Harad**

The last night of the dry-season crew's sojourn in the Flooded City is marked with the usual feasting and dancing, and Ragna smiles as she stands with other masters at the edges of the main square of their quarter of the city, clapping her hands with the beat of the music, though she doesn't add her voice to those singing encouragement to those in the dance circle. The journeymen and apprentices are egging each other into more athletic displays as they move around the circle, and Ragna remembers her first year in the city, joining in the celebration of the last days of the season.

Rain will soon drench the dusty streets and roads of the southern Haradic cities, and swell the rivers out of their banks and drown the lower squares of the city where wooden homes are built on stone piers, and connected by walkways that will float on the river through the floods. Here, in their quarter, the roads might be wet, and the unpaved yards watery mud, but the homes themselves will remain dry, on their high foundations on the hills above the river.

Not that Ragna wants to see that again. One brush with the floods and constant damp of a Haradic wet-season had been enough for her, and she'd been glad to have the choice when she gained her mastery. The dry season is a far better time to be building in Harad.

"Master Ragna!" Thísali works nir way out of the dancers, face flushed and grinning. "Come dance with us? Please?"

Ragna considers the dancers a moment before she laughs, letting Thísali pull her into the whirling, fast-paced circle. It's as exhilarating now as it had been as a journeyman in her first season in Harad, and when she finally pulls away from Thísali and the dancing, she's laughing, stumbling back to the edges and the masters there who watch their journeymen and apprentices with fond indulgence.

"It's fun to indulge them from time to time, isn't it?" Yngvi hands her a mug of mint-water as Ragna leans against the wall, once more watching the dancing.

Gulping down half the mug, Ragna shrugs. "It's fun to dance once in a while. Particularly when I have a partner as good at dancing as Thísali."

"Thísali is one of the better dancers." Yngvi nods, smiling as the dwarrow in question pulls another into the dancing. "Ne knows who to pull into the dance with nir."

"And who to leave to watch." Ragna takes a more sedate sip of the mint-water, glancing over at Yngvi with a grin that makes the older dwarrow huff, and threaten to keep the rest of the pitcher for himself.

* * *

**Ered Luin**

Dori has an expression like thunder when he comes through the door Nori had been very careful to lock after he picked it to get into the house, since neither of his brothers had been home when he arrived. At least he'd had a chance to take a bit of a nap before he had to face Dori's ire - though which he'll start in on first is a good question. Nori knows he's thinner than last time he'd been home, even if this time he doesn't have a new scar to show for his trouble.

Nori doesn't give Dori a chance to speak before he tosses a small pouch toward his brother. It's heavy with gold, and Nori has another one for Ori when his younger brother arrives home. "I bought bread and one of those hams that come from the Shire, for dinner." It's not anything better than what he'd seen in the pantry when he'd looked, but it's something Nori's provided, rather than his taking food away from Dori and Ori.

Catching the pouch, Dori glares at Nori for a long moment before his expression fades into something more helpless and worried. He's never been able to remain angry at Nori long, though even those moments of rage are more bluster than real. Nori imagines it's Dori's way of trying to pretend he isn't scared, the same way Nori laughs and quips. The way they both bicker and fight, because otherwise, they'd worry themselves to frayed tatters, and neither of them can afford to be worn so thin.

"How long will you stay, this time?" Dori's voice is brisk, and almost impersonal as he moves further into the room, going past Nori toward the short hallway the bedrooms are on. Probably planning to put the pouch with the others in a stone box under his bed. It's not as safe a place as Nori would prefer, but at least there's some effort made to keep the money hidden.

Nori shrugs, not moving from the chair he's taken over. It's almost comfortable enough to properly sleep in, rather than simply nap. If he doesn't decide to find a room at the local inn. "I don't know."

There's no sound from Dori for several minutes, though Nori can hear the scrape of stone as he stores the pouch with the others. There's enough there to make life more comfortable for Dori, if his brother used it. Or to keep Dori and Ori fed and clothed for months, maybe as much as a year, if anything happened. Nori isn't sure if he likes Dori's saving the gold or Ori's gladly spending it on any variety of things better. Both are a comfort, knowing his brothers appreciate what he can give them.

Dori comes back, and stops in the arch between hallway and room, watching Nori silently for a long moment. Disapproving and worrying and everything that makes Nori want to run again even as it tells him Dori cares. "At least I'll have a chance to make sure you eat one meal properly." He pauses, and Nori shifts under the weight of his gaze. "There's a cot, if you're not planning to leave after dinner. It'll be more comfortable than the chair."

Probably the same cot Ori had slept on in Dori's room when he was still a small child - maybe even the same one Nori had slept on, before the first time he ran away. It's tempting, but he doesn't know that he can sleep well, if he takes Dori up on that offer. The nightmares are bad enough on their own, without giving himself a reminder of why his dreams run dark.

Nori shakes his head a little. "The chair will be fine." Better a little uncomfortable than waking his brothers if he has a particularly bad nightmare.

* * *

**Broken Peak, Yellow Mountains**

Ragna placed the final piece of carved alabaster with the others after wiping the last bit of dust off. She could take on an apprentice to pass the long hours of winter, instead of this, but she doesn't - and hasn't - felt the need. Even if those who think themselves her friends often say she needs something other than carving chess pieces and reading her way through the library as hobbies. Never mind that she likes carving chess sets, and they sell rather well in Harad for a nice bit of extra income. Or that she really only reads anything that's come in new to the library since last winter.

Apparently, these mark her as lonely, and in need of something to do in company other than eat her meals and join the others in the baths of an evening. Ragna snorts to herself. Just because they can't stand a little time alone with their thoughts and a task to accomplish...

Her musings are interrupted by a predictable knock on her door, and Ragna chuckles to herself for having forgotten the time as she goes to answer it. Yngvi is there with a new bottle of wine, and a grumbled complaint about idiot apprentices who shouldn't be out of their own doors.

"Frig's mock come down again?" Ragna asks as she closes the door behind the architect. She and Yngvi don't call each other friend, but they're more that just two dwarrow on the same season in Harad.

"Hmph. If only he had such a disaster today, it would be less difficult." Yngvi settles into his favorite chair, opposite of Ragna's in front of the fire, and picks up one of the new chess pieces to inspect. "Lopt came home with two broken ribs and a cracked skull because like the fool he is, he challenged the young lady who wields a mace to spar today."

"Did he at least manage to make it a draw?" Ragna brings over two mugs for the wine, offering Yngvi the first after she pours.

"No." Yngvi sets the chess piece down, leaning back in the chair with his wine. "He's determined to prove himself as hard as good granite. Who's this set for? And don't tell me you intend to sell it - that Haradrim will never know how to appreciate it properly."

"Thísali, when ne gains nir mastery." Ragna gives Yngvi an amused look for his abrupt change of topic. It's never failed to make her wonder, that he both loves to complain about his son, and doesn't care to dwell on what he sees as Lopt's mistakes.

"Hmm." Yngvi picks up the dark king, turning it over in his hands. "Why malachite for the black?"

"Thísali likes green." Ragna shrugs. "It's better than the set Alfar commissioned three years past."

Yngvi snorts. "Jasper and jade, because they cost a pretty penny. He's lucky he can find anyone to play against him with that ugly set." Setting the king back down, he takes another sip of his wine. "Making the board from the same?"

"Inlaid in mahogany. Ioran's cousin brought logs in two days ago, has them drying up in the height. Should have an appropriate piece to me by mid-winter at the latest."

"Good." Yngvi looks over the set. "Might commission a set if Lopt survives his apprenticeship. Something a little less exotic, though."

"Ivory and ebony?" Ragna raises an eyebrow, curious that Yngvi had even mentioned the idea of spending money on one of her chess sets, no matter that it's ostensibly for his son. "Inlaid in the usual oak?"

"Something sturdy enough for regular travel, and to stand up to that rowdy lot." Yngvi meets her gaze with a shrug. "He'll either need a mastery-gift or a wedding-gift. Girl was the one who made sure he got home."

"Ah." Looking over at her work-bench, Ragna takes a long sip of wine. "Basalt and oak, set in steel?"

"That'll do." Yngvi picks up yet another piece, examining the carving of it. "Not too fancy. Don't know the girl, and Lopt doesn't pay enough attention to understand the jokes."

Ragna chuckles, and shrugs, making a mental note to keep the flourishes at a minimum. She's never carved a set for a dwarrow that doesn't have at least a little ribaldry to tease the players, and sale sets are just too boring to bother selling - much less giving - to other dwarrows. "I'll keep that in mind. Do you think you'll need the set before next winter?"

"Unlikely." Yngvi lets out a huff of irritation, and returns the piece to the set. "He'll be a couple years, at least. Has to learn to stop picking fights that are bound to get him killed if he's up against real foes."

Which allows for plenty of time to make a set that will suit Lopt, and not make Yngvi snort and roll his eyes. Ragna nods slightly, before she settles back in her chair, sipping at her wine while Yngvi examines each of the chess pieces and pronounces the set good enough for a mastery-gift to Thísali.


End file.
